


We're Not Just Friends

by andromedasgalaxy



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26511235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andromedasgalaxy/pseuds/andromedasgalaxy
Summary: Overheard words and misunderstandings lead you to an interesting car ride with Inspector ValentineInspired by the prompt 'We’re not just friends and you fucking know it'Cross posted on tumblr under thegildedquill.
Relationships: Inspector Valentine (Father Brown)/Reader
Kudos: 5





	We're Not Just Friends

You were in a rush. There was only so long you could be away from work before your boss would find your absence unacceptable. Practically tearing your way through the front door to the police station, you almost ran right into a dirt ridden Father Brown who was stopped just inside the doorway; well, that explained part of what was going on, you thought with an amused huff of laughter, finally slowing in your pursuit.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Father Brown greeted you with a smile and a slight nod of his head, already eyeing up the bags in your hands with curiosity shinning through his gaze.

“Father,” you nodded in return, smile only growing as you noticed he was not alone in his dirt ridden state, with an equally messy Sid sitting on the bench behind him, and a surprisingly disarrayed Mrs McCarthy next to him, fidgeting where she sat as if desperate to keep any additional dirt as far from her as possible. “I see you’ve all been having a rather exciting day.”

The two men laughed in response, much to the disapproval of Mrs McCarthy. With a huff of displeasure, the woman in question offered a tense smile, one that clearly showed she wanted to be anywhere but at the police station in such a state.

“You could certainly say so,” Father Brown smiled softly. With a nod towards the bag in your hand, his curiosity clearly needed sating. “I take it you are here to see the Inspector?”

“Oh,” you startled, suddenly reminded of your reason for being there, and the rush you were in. “Yes, right- I should probably-” you gestured vaguely to the closed door.

With a quick apologetic smile at the Father and his little gang, you moved towards the closed door, offering a quick knock before entering without waiting for a response; having long since given up on waiting for what was often no more than a grunt of approval from the man within.

Your smile grew as you entered the room, a common reaction to being around the man, if you were honest. There was something about being in his presence, it was both calming and thrilling, and you tried not to think about just what that meant. But the thought was quickly rushed from your mind as you took in the state of him. Clearly he hadn’t been joking when he said he was desperate for a change of clothes.

You nearly broke down into laughter at the sight of the man hovering over his desk, determined not to sit down and rub the dirt into the furniture. If Father Brown had been muddy, well, this was an entirely new level of mess. Not only was there dirt and mud caked onto his trousers and the front of his shirt, but there were tears in the fabric too. A hole had formed on the side of the once white shirt, showing the singlet beneath, and the left arm was barely holding on. And judging by the sight of the muddled mess of fabric strewn across the waste paper bin in the corner, that vaguely resembled his jacket, it seemed some articles of clothing were now completely beyond repair.

You were glad you were biting your lip in an effort to hide your amusement when you finally met the inspector’s gaze, seeing the absolute look of irritation that sat on his brow. But as you pursed your lips, eyes shining in mirth at the sight before you, he seemed to relax before your eyes, if only slightly. Shoulders that were once tense seemed to drop as he stood up, and the corner of his lips quirked ever so slightly as he watched you take in the sight.

“I hope you’ve come with a change of clothes, and not just to gawk,” he huffed out, although his tone gave away the fact that he was starting to see the funny side of it too.

“I’m so tempted to say ‘no’,” you shook your head as a single laugh rolled off your tongue, the mischief in your eyes showing you were only joking. Still, the idea of leaving him to his dilemma amused you, and you could only imagine the rumours that would follow if he were seen in such a state by the rest of the townsfolk. “But, I didn’t go through the ordeal of searching your house for your bedroom for nothing.”

The silence that dawned at your attempt at a joke seemed to fill the room with an awkward aura. You had rarely actually been inside the inspector’s home, as it simply wouldn’t have been proper to do so as a single lady, but the fact you had been rooting around in his bedroom of all places… You could feel your cheeks begin to burn at the thought of it, the utter indecency of it all, and just how personal the task had been.

With an awkward shuffle forwards, unable to meet his eye once more, you proffered the bag to him, making sure to keep the table between you as if it were some form of buffer.

“Here,” you spoke simply, your voice suddenly sounding far more timid than it had beforehand. “I should really get going, don’t want to be late back to work.”

There wasn’t so much as a beat of silence before he was quickly interjecting, “I’ll drive you,” in a rush of words.

Your gaze raced up to meet his before you could even think to stop it, oddly stunned by the offer. It wasn’t that it was in any way out of the ordinary, he had given you quite a few lifts here and there, and it wasn’t as if it wouldn’t be helpful. But, somehow, the offer shocked you nonetheless. Perhaps it was the timing, perhaps you were simply lost in your thoughts of impropriety, or perhaps it was the fact that it was still very much the middle of his work day. But one way or another you simply stood there in shock, mouth hanging open slightly as you stared at him.

“That is-” he cleared his throat, attempting to sound more like his usual self. “Why don’t you let me give you a lift? I have some things to do on that side of town anyway.”

All you could do was nod in response, knowing full well there was no good reason not to accept the offer, and being rather grateful not to have to make the arduous walk back. “I’ll just- I’ll let you get changed.”

You barely made it out the door, pulling it to a quick shut behind you, before you were startled to a stop.

Father Brown, Sid and Mrs McCarthy were all watching you with differing levels of curiosity, but their questions still showed clearly on their features.

“So,” Mrs McCarthy started slowly, her gaze inquiring as she took you in with speculation. “You and the Inspector?” her tone left no space for questioning what she meant, holding more accusation than real wonder.

“The inspec- Oh!” you startled in realisation at what she was implying, glancing quickly towards the closed office door in surprise, as if the man behind it might suddenly come out and save you from the awkward questioning, yet desperately hoping he wouldn’t hear such questions.

“No, no, we’re just friends,” you offered with a slight laugh, quickly dismissing the thought.

With a quirk of his brow, Father Brown leant forwards with an air of mischief in his smile. “Friends who drop off clothing to the other?”

“Friends who have a key to each other’s house, you mean,” Sid piped up, throwing you a quick wink when the other two weren’t watching that did nothing to help your blush as it blossomed once more at the insinuation.

“For emergencies,” you huffed out the reply, not in any way amused at Sid’s joining in, even though you knew he was only teasing. “But then, I don’t suppose you’d know about that, would you Sid? You’d need to be good friends with someone, someone who _trusts_ you for them to willingly give you a key.”

You could see the man opening his mouth ready to retort, the Father barely holding back an amused chuckle, and the way Mrs McCarthy seemed torn between placated at your words and displeased at the vulgarity of Sid’s implications. But just as it seemed the chauffeur was about to respond, the door behind you swept open in a rush of air, and a, now properly dressed, although still adjusting his tie, inspector Valentine came to a sudden stop behind you.

“Well?” the man huffed behind you, glancing about your little gathering impatiently. “Are we going or what?”

The sudden change in his demeanour threw you, and you could only gape in surprise as he moved to pass you for the doors without another word.

The door rattled as he forced it open, shaking you to your senses. Offering yet another apologetic smile to Father Brown, you gave the trio a slight nod of your head, a quick “good day,” and rushed after the inspector.

The car was running by the time you slipped into the passenger seat, and, were it not for the fact the inspector was clearly waiting for you to get yourself situated before he started to drive, you might have easily thought he had gone back on his offer. But as silence fell heavy and thick through the car, almost suffocating you, you knew there was something else going on.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” you spoke softly, not wanting to startle the man who was all but bristling at your side.

“It’s nothing,” he responded, but the way he practically grunted the words showed just how untrue that was.

“Is this about whatever mischief Father Brown got you in that destroyed your clothes in the first place?” you pushed once more, beginning to grow concerned at his sudden shift in temperament.

A huff was all the response he could give you, shaking his head as he did so, but still you could see his anger only growing, and you were beginning to get the idea that it wasn’t so much something that had happened prior to your arrival, but rather, because of you. But still, you couldn’t think of anything you could have possibly done to upset him so. You had used the short lunch break to leave work, rush to his home, find him a change of clothes and arrive at his office, surely that was something to be thankful for, not angry over.

“Do you not like that tie?” you asked almost humorously, hoping to at least illicit a smile, or quirk of his lips at your jest, knowing he wasn’t one to be overly picky over such a thing. But there was no show of amusement from the inspector, instead he slowly exhaled, as if desperately trying to calm himself of the anger that was practically radiating off of him.

With a measured breath, and not so much as a glance in your direction, he did his best to keep his tone calm, but the monotone sounded anything but as he slowly spoke. “I don’t care about the tie. I’m fine. Really.”

“I’m not daft!” the words rushed out of you, louder and angrier than you had intended. But you couldn’t stop yourself now. “Clearly I’ve done something to upset you, or do you normally hold the steering wheel as if you’re attempting to strangle it?”

“I _said_ it’s fine,” he grit out, his teeth clenched in his own anger as he rung his fists around the wheel before stilling them quickly, realising the action was only proving your point.

“Oh, just tell me already!” you shot out. Unable to take the hostile environment any longer, and knowing your destination was getting far too close for the matter to be drawn out any longer.

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it!” he slammed him hand down against the wheel in emphasis. You couldn’t help but jump at the action surprised by the sudden movement, so much so that you didn’t even take in his words properly. Never before had you seen him display such anger, and the action shocked you more than you could have expected.

It wasn’t until the silence sat awkwardly between you once more that your mind finally begin to replay his words. Stuck on his sudden need to curse and the startling movement on his fist hitting the wheel, it seemed an age before the actual meaning of his words settled in your mind. ‘We’re not just friends.’ The term sat oddly familiar in your mind, and it wasn’t until you noticed the terse expression on his features that realisation came kicking in. He had overheard you speaking with Mrs McCarthy outside his office.

“You heard that,” your voice was softer than you intended, meek and shy, and you couldn’t help but cringe as the tone reached the man next to you. Regret and anguish quickly took any glimpse of anger from him as his posture drooped in his seat.

“I didn’t mean-” his own voice matched yours now, and were he not driving you knew he would have desperately searched for your gaze in a silent attempt to get his true meaning across; he never had been very good at expressing his emotions, let alone through words.

With a small nod of your own, you carefully shifted further towards him on the shared seat until your thigh touched his. The small contact seemed to draw him from his thoughts, forcing him to glance your way with a look that held so much sadness, you couldn’t help but lean in closer. Suddenly the anger made sense, a defence against the overwhelming sadness that sat in his gaze.

“No,” you offered slowly, resting your head against his shoulder as you curled your arm around his ever so lightly. “No, we’re not just friends, we’re much more than that.”


End file.
